Aiden woke up slowly.


    His body felt heavy, like he’d been dragged through hell and barely stitched back together. His head pulsed with a dull, rhythmic ache, and his throat was raw, dry. He exhaled, focusing on his breathing.


    For a moment, everything was still.


    No screaming. No shifting shadows. No voices pressing against his skull.


    Just silence.


    A dream.


    That’s what it had to be.


    The Rift. The massacre. The thing in the dark. The light.


    It wasn’t real.


    How could it be?


    He had been blind his entire life.


    Aiden clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. His fingers twitched, brushing against something—fabric. Smooth, crisp sheets. The faint hum of air vents overhead. A low beep from nearby machines.


    The air smelled clean. Sterile. Processed.


    Not the scent of blood. Not decay.


    Something wasn’t right.


    His pulse picked up.


    His hand twitched, rubbing at his eyes—a habit.


    Then he froze.


    He could see.


    His fingers hovered near his face, hesitating. It should have been pitch black. It always had been. But now, he could see the creases on his palm. The way the dim hospital lighting reflected off his skin. The sterile white of the sheets beneath his fingertips.


    Panic twisted in his gut.


    Not normal. This was not normal.


    Then a much worse thought hit him.


    Oh, crap. The Association.


    If they knew—


    His breath hitched. His heart slammed against his ribs. His instincts screamed at him to look around, to take in everything he had missed his entire life. But he couldn’t.


    Not if he wanted to walk out of here alive.


    So, instead of drinking in the world for the first time, he did the opposite.


    He stared straight ahead. Expression blank. Unfocused.


    The way a blind man would.


    And just in time.


    A sudden, mechanical hiss filled the air.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Aiden stiffened.


    The door unlocked and slid open.


    A figure stepped inside, moving with the deliberate control of someone trained for combat. Tall. Broad. Wearing dark combat gear lined with silver. Their face was sharp, unreadable.


    Aiden didn’t react to their presence immediately. Didn’t look toward them, even though he could see them perfectly in his peripheral vision.


    Instead, he did what any blind man would do. He listened.


    "…You survived an S-Rank Rift."


    Aiden nearly winced.


    Varyn.


    The name surfaced instantly, even before the man introduced himself. Commander Varyn.


    A Hunter who specialized in Rift anomalies. A man who didn’t deal with weaklings or survivors.


    If he was here, that meant the Association thought Aiden was something more than just lucky.


    Varyn took another step inside, the door shutting behind him.


    His eyes never left Aiden’s face.


    Aiden kept his gaze just slightly off-center. Not quite meeting Varyn’s stare, but not too exaggerated. Just enough to be natural.


    “No one else made it,” Varyn said.


    Aiden exhaled slowly. Let his brows pull together slightly—just enough hesitation to pass as someone adjusting to the news. "I know."


    Varyn studied him for a moment longer.


    Aiden fought the urge to fidget. How much acting was too much? Should he squint? Keep his face relaxed? Did blind people look straight ahead all the time, or did they move their eyes naturally?


    He had never needed to think about this before.


    Then he made a mistake.


    Instinctively, his gaze flicked to the clipboard in Varyn’s hand.


    Shit.


    Too late to fix it.


    Aiden panicked and did the only thing he could think of—he immediately "missed" the chair when he tried to sit down.


    His body half-tilted, one hand shooting out at nothing but air before he barely managed to correct himself.


    Varyn’s brow twitched.


    Aiden resisted the urge to die of secondhand embarrassment.


    “…You good?” Varyn asked, tone flat.


    Aiden nodded quickly. "Yeah. Just… depth perception is weird."


    There was a long pause.


    Aiden could feel the weight of Varyn’s stare.


    Depth perception? Really? That was the excuse his brain had come up with?


    He tried to make it worse. "You know, ‘cause I don’t have it."


    Varyn didn’t respond.


    Aiden internally kicked himself. Stop talking.


    Finally, the Hunter commander exhaled, setting the clipboard down on the table beside him. "We’re running some tests."


    Aiden barely resisted saying "Great, love that for me." Instead, he just nodded vaguely in the wrong direction.


    The next hour was a blur of physical assessments, neurological scans, and bloodwork.


    Aiden let them run their tests. He didn’t fight. He didn’t argue.


    And most importantly, he never once looked at anything.


    He let them guide him. Acted hesitant when they told him to move. Pretended to "miss" when asked to reach for something.


    …He may have even walked into a chair. For realism.


    By the end of it, he was exhausted.


    The results were always the same.


    No Core Trait. No Hunter ability. No Rift corruption.


    Nothing.


    He was normal.


    Except he wasn’t.


    Because normal didn’t explain why everything felt too slow. Why he could hear three sets of footsteps standing outside the room, counting each individual shift in weight. Why he could see through the glass reflection on the monitor, watching Varyn’s every movement even when he turned his back.


    Aiden didn’t know how to explain it.


    And if they found out?


    He had a feeling the Hunter Association wouldn’t just let him walk away.


    Finally, Varyn sat across from him, silent, staring.


    “You’re clear.”


    Aiden didn’t move for a second. Then, slowly, he tilted his head just slightly—like he was listening, not looking. "That’s it?"


    Varyn leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees. “The Association isn’t in the habit of detaining people who don’t register as a threat.” His voice was too even, too neutral. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not watching.”


    There it was.


    Aiden exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “And if I told you I don’t know what happened in there either?”


    "Then I’d say you’re either lying, or you’re more dangerous than we thought."


    Aiden held his gaze—then quickly corrected himself and looked slightly past Varyn’s shoulder.


    Shit. Almost slipped.


    Varyn didn’t blink. Didn’t look away.


    Finally, the Hunter commander sighed, standing up. “Go home, Kain. Try not to die.”


    A pause.


    "And if something changes—" His tone darkened. "If you start hearing things. Seeing things. If anything about you becomes... unnatural—"


    Aiden already knew where this was going.


    "You’ll kill me."


    Varyn didn’t confirm it. But he didn’t deny it either.


    Just turned and walked out.


    Aiden waited until the door shut behind him.


    Then he let out a long breath and rubbed his temple, exasperated.


    This was going to be exhausting.


    He was going to have to pretend to be blind forever, wasn’t he?